


Oblivion

by starstruck1986



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 20:36:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7948177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstruck1986/pseuds/starstruck1986
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sweet, sweet oblivion, my old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oblivion

Ron drifted through the flat with a wine bottle hanging loosely from his fingers.  
  
He was halfway through his second. He planned to finish it before he even thought about bed. Whether he could feel his teeth or not didn't matter. He just wanted to taste oblivion on his lips.  
  
Even if his stomach hated him for it the next morning, he would have had a night of relatively pain-free hours whilst the booze knocked him out.  
  
Brain, body – it all hurt and he was sick of it. Any peace he could get, he'd take.  
  
He paused in front of a shelf full of photo frames, each of them laden with memories. They forced him to bring the bottle to his lips and chug from it again. Smiling faces, waves full of warmth. Memories of a life long gone but one he couldn't relinquish.  
  
Something in his chest began to ache and he let his lips twist into a grimace.  
  
He'd never been able to pinpoint exactly what had been the worst part of what happened – the fact that nobody had chased him, or that he'd felt forced out in the first place.  
  
He knew it wasn't all his fault: that his burgeoning sexuality was something that couldn't be controlled once it was realised. But he'd made the move, been the one to show what he felt. Terrified and lonely it had seemed preferable to have the truth 'out there' than continue living alone and being without.  
  
Even after everything, he still thought he'd made the right decision.  
  
Perhaps, though, he could have chosen a less outlandish method of announcing that he was not entirely straight. Could have picked someone less important to kiss and profess his love to.  
  
Fall in devastating, painful love with.  
  
Ron sucked on his front teeth as his eyes drifted, as they always did, to the picture he loved the most. Them. Together. An arm around his waist; smiles on their faces.  
  
“Fuck,” he whispered, reaching up to trail his fingers over the photo.  
  
They were the only memories he'd been able to grab quickly on his way out.  
  
Running had seemed the only option. It had been easier than he'd expected to sink completely into a Muggle life. A flat in the suburbs, a job in a city theatre where he could hide in the dark every night and lose himself in stories which were far from his reality. He knew the Underground like the back of his hand and had avoided all magical hotspots for years.  
  
Nobody had come after him physically so there'd been no need to hide his appearance.  
  
That hurt, he wasn't going to lie.  
  
He had a very small pile of letters, normally only added to once a year. The most recent from earlier that day had been what caused him to reach for the bottle.  
  
 _'I love you. I miss you. Please, come back. I need you.'_  
  
Ron wanted to run, leg it back as fast as his aching feet would carry him. The wine certainly helped the idea of a dramatic return, loving hard, being together.  
  
But as he drank down the last of the wine and he blinked at the photo, he knew he couldn't go back. There was nothing else for him. Just his wine bottle, his empty flat, and oblivion.


End file.
